Suitcase
by Iced Rum
Summary: "Didn't see it coming. No kind of warning. I can't work out what I've done wrong."
1. Suitcase

It started out just an ordinary day, no different from any other, for Chloe Beale.

The moment that she opened the door and stepped into her home she knew that was wrong. This was no ordinary day; something wasn't right. Walking down the hallway, it was only little things that she noticed at first. The shoes in the shoe rack by the door now belonged only to her, one of the photo frames on the wall was missing its picture. Stepping into their bedroom, she noticed that the door of their wardrobe was open and walked over to close it. It was half empty. Panic bubbled up inside of her and she frantically began pulling open drawers. Heart racing, blood rushing, she searched for any trace of her and came up empty.

But her keys were hung up in the hall where they always were, _weren't they?_ Or had she just imagined it? Rushing to her feet, she barrelled back the way she had come in. Relief flooded through her body upon seeing the pair of keys (one to unlock the front door and one for the back) in their rightful place. The relief was only momentary though because something still wasn't right. The keys were indeed there but the keyring - half a heart, that fitted perfectly with the half attached to the keys that were still in her hand - was not.

"What's going on?" She whispered to herself.

* * *

Chloe found her perched on the arm of the sofa, a suitcase placed at her feet.

"Aubrey, what's going on?" She didn't look up. Her eyes didn't move from their focus on the floor. She slowly stood - the only sign Chloe had that she had been heard.

"I'm leaving." Aubrey spoke softly.

"What? What's happened babe?"

"I- I can't- I have to go." Her voice cracked as she spoke but she still didn't look up.

"Why? Where are you going? When are you coming back?"

"My parents- I'm going back to my parents' house."

"For how long? When'll you be back?" The deafening silence that the question was met with spoke louder than any words. "Oh," tears were welling up in her eyes, "you're _not_ coming back." Aubrey shook her head slowly, sadly. "Why, Aubrey?" She asked the question so quietly, only a whisper, as if she wasn't sure is she was more scared of the answer or not knowing at all.

"Please don't ask me why."

"I love you Aubrey. I have a right to know why. Please. Just tell me what I've done wrong." She pleaded. "Tell me what's happened. _Whatever_ it is, we can fix it."

Aubrey merely shook her head again. "It's too late. This _is_ me fixing it." She reached down and pulled up the handle of the suitcase and began pulling it towards the doorway.

"But what's happened? What's changed?" Chloe tried to speak with more confidence than she truly possessed as she followed Aubrey into the hallway. "We're happy together. Aren't you-" Her certainty faltered, "haven't you been happy? You _were_ happy - what's changed?" She rushed in front of the blonde, stopping her in her tracks. Too many emotions were racing through her body. Anxiety, confusion, fear, pain. They knotted together in her stomach and mutated into a sudden burst of overwhelming anger. "Answer me!" She yelled. Aubrey flinched but still she wouldn't look at her. Still she wouldn't answer. The tears that had been threatening to spill since she first laid her eyes on the suitcase began to pour down the redhead's face, taking her make-up with them and leaving ugly streaks down her cheeks. "_You're_ doing this to me." She reached out one hand to grasp Aubrey's shoulder, anchoring herself, while the other attempted to pull the blonde's chin up to face her. "At least, _please_, tell me why?"

"Don't touch me." Keeping her eyes averted, she let go of the suitcase and pushed the hands forcefully away. Chloe held her ground. "Get out of the way."

"Tell me what's going on." Aubrey took hold of the suitcase once again and stepped forward. "Tell me-"

"Don't." She pushed Chloe aside, refusing to look at her, and strode decisively forward, reaching a hand out to the door handle.

"I love you." She sobbed. Aubrey's hand paused momentarily on the handle. Chloe watched as she took in a breath, held it for a beat, then released it as she turned the handle. Chloe could only watch as the love of her life stepped through the door and into the night, suitcase in hand.

* * *

As the door swung shut, Chloe sank to her knees, her heart heavy with grief. Her lover, her heart, _her Aubrey_ had left her, with nothing but a question.

_"Why?"_


	2. The Letter

_It's got my name on it,_

_And it's just waiting there for me._

* * *

_'Chloe Beale'_

Of course, she'd recognised the handwriting instantly. There was only her name written on it. No stamp, no address – it had been hand delivered. _She'd_ been here. At some point during the few short hours while she'd been trying to sleep, Aubrey had been _here_, right outside their front door. The evidence, one crisp white envelope bearing Chloe's name in her distinctive handwriting, lay on the doormat, waiting. Waiting for Chloe to pick up it, to open it. Waiting to break her heart all over again.

She approached it slowly, cautiously, as though at any moment, it might jump out and attack her. Once bare feet reached the doormat, she bent down and gingerly reached out towards it. A chill, unrelated to the cold fall morning, ran through her body. She knew what this letter was.

This was not a declaration of love. This was not a plea to come back. Aubrey had stood mere metres away from where Chloe had laid, separated by only two doors. If she'd wanted to see the redhead again she could have knocked. She _would_ have knocked. But she didn't. She hadn't. This wasn't a letter written from love but from shame. It would hold in it all the words that Aubrey couldn't say to Chloe's face that night, weeks ago, when she couldn't bring herself to even _look_ at Chloe's face.

In the days since that night, Chloe had found herself caught between anger at Aubrey for walking out without a word of explanation and anger at herself for letting her go. She had barely eaten, barely slept, and now she was just tired. Tired of crying, tired of hurting, tired of trying to work out why. Aubrey had removed all possible forms of contact. Phone calls went straight through to voicemail. Emails went unreturned. She had no address to find the blonde at. She only knew that she was with her parents, which meant somewhere in Charlotte, North Carolina. She had been forced to realise that Aubrey did not want to hear from her again. So, she had begun to move on.

She'd told herself that it was probably for the best, in the long run anyway. Aubrey had not been good for her, so she would find someone who was. Someone who was not ashamed of her – ashamed of their relationship. Someone not afraid to kiss her or hold her hand in public. She would forget all about Aubrey and find someone better. She knew she had no choice, she had to let go. She knew this, but still she couldn't open the letter. Would it contain the answers that she so desperately craved? Probably. Would it also open her up to even more hurt and pain? Definitely. She couldn't even bring herself to pick it up, so it stayed there on the doormat. Untouched.

She _would_ forget about Aubrey Posen. Eventually. Eventually she had to, _right_?

* * *

"How are you?" "How's everything going?" "How are you feeling?"

The same questions came in many forms from worried friends, family and co-workers. The answer was always the same though.

"Fine, thanks." Always accompanied by as convincing a smile as she could muster. Always a lie. She was not fine but how can you explain how you're feeling if you don't even know yourself? She didn't think that there were words that could accurately describe the twisted range of emotions she felt. All she knew was that she was paying the price for what Aubrey had done. Aubrey had been her world, her life, and when she walked out, with her suitcase packed full, she took Chloe's world with her too.

The concerned questions began to change into suggestions and offers to set up dates with various suitors. While she hadn't accepted any yet, she promised herself that she would do, eventually.

* * *

Eventually she'd had to move it. She knew it couldn't stay on her doormat forever so it made its way to the coffee table. It stayed there for days, serving as a constant reminder. Unopened.

She'd quickly lost count of the number of times she'd tried to open it. The first time, she'd only managed to keep it in her hands for a few seconds before breaking down and shoving it under the cushion of the sofa. With each subsequent attempt, she managed to hold onto it a little longer but each attempt ended with her in tears and the letter in a new hiding place.

True to the promise she had made herself, she did eventually take up the offer of a date. It was nothing special but this was her moving on and as time passed, her attempts at the letter became less frequent. After every bad date she would try though, hoping that if she could just get some closure then she'd be able to completely let go, and then maybe the next date would be better.

Whenever she was missing Aubrey particularly deeply she would try again, hoping that the words would bring her some sort of comfort. Sometimes just holding it, imagining her words, was comforting, in a heartbreaking kind of way. Birthdays, holidays and anniversaries of special moments that they had shared together all came with an unsuccessful attempt. New Year's Eves passed and with each stroke of midnight she broke and re-made the same resolution: This year I'll open it.

* * *

The letter with just two words written on the front stayed with her through a number of new homes, in each of which it had a different hiding place. Still sealed. Never forgotten. Always waiting.


	3. Thinking Of You

_Comparisons are easily done,_

_Once you've had a taste of perfection._

* * *

Chloe Beale wasn't inexperienced in sex or dating. Aubrey hadn't been her first, she hadn't even been the first woman Chloe had been with but for nearly four years, she had been her only. As such, when the time came for her to start dating again, she was understandably, a little nervous. Her first since Aubrey, was a gorgeous woman who worked in her favourite coffee shop. One morning, following a few weeks of innocent flirting, Chloe left the shop with a number scrawled across her cup. They'd been on a few dates and following a meal at a very expensive restaurant, Chloe found herself standing outside her own front door, inviting her in.

Her kisses were harsher than Aubrey's, more insistent. When she came it was with a sudden cry, rather than the exquisite moans she was used to. When she left, Chloe found that she didn't need her to come back, instead she pulled the letter out from under her mattress and simply sat with it for a while.

A veterinarian followed, they had been introduced by mutual friends and he seemed like a really great guy, if only he knew what foreplay was. The brunette who worked in the office above her's was a few inches too short which meant that Chloe had to stoop to kiss her. Then there was the guy from the gym, Chloe thought that his incredibly toned body would suggest some kind of stamina, she was sadly mistaken. She picked the most successful, good-looking, financially and emotionally stable dates but she always managed to find fault in them somewhere. No one was perfect. Well, _she_ had been but now no one could really match up. She really was trying to move on but maybe the best she could do now would always be second best when compared to Aubrey Posen. And they always were compared to her.

Her initial attempts at moving on had mostly involved lying to herself about who Aubrey really was. Cold, unfeeling and controlling she told herself. Stubborn and inflexible. Ashamed of their relationship. These were things that had been said about Aubrey before but not by Chloe, by people who didn't really know her. Chloe knew Aubrey. She knew that while Aubrey displayed a hard exterior she was surprisingly gentle and affectionate on the inside, once she let you in. During the years that they were together, Chloe had always felt incredibly lucky that she got to see that other side of Aubrey, even if it was only in private.

'Ashamed of their relationship' did have an element of truth to it though. Many times, Chloe had unsuccessfully attempted to persuade Aubrey to let her tell someone, anyone, about their relationship. Chloe knew though, that her reluctance to be open about their relationship had come from a place of fear and not shame. Now, Chloe regretted ever pushing her so hard about it.

Unable to open Aubrey's letter and learn the truth, Chloe had, over the years, developed many theories about why she had left. Her departure had been so unexpected, Chloe felt that she should have seen warning signs, but even with hindsight, she couldn't find any. The most painful thoughts (that she'd found someone else or maybe she just stopped loving her altogether) she kept locked in the back of her mind, only finding their way out when she was too emotionally drained to keep them at bay. The theory that she kept coming back to though, was that maybe she had just pushed too hard.

She'd touched the flame and she'd got burned. Never again though. She'd learnt her lesson and wasn't going to let history repeat itself, regardless of the reasons behind it. As people came and went through her life she found herself actively looking for faults in them rather than just stumbling upon them. She began to feel a sense of relief when she did, as she then had an excuse for moving along. Not sticking around for long ensured not getting too attached and not getting attached meant not getting hurt.

* * *

In her absence, Aubrey had become Chloe's dating benchmark, an ideal to strive for but never to be reached. Sometimes the comparisons would just be a commentary in her own mind - things Aubrey wouldn't have done, things she had done and how she would have done them differently. Other times she would close her eyes and actively imagine that it was Aubrey with her. Pretending that the soft kisses and gentle caresses that she was on the receiving end of were coming from her. Sometimes she almost believed it but when she did, it only made the crushing disappointment even stronger when she opened her eyes and didn't find those deep green eyes looking lovingly back at her.

Being with Aubrey had always been both hot with passion and warm with comfort. She'd memorised every inch of her, had learnt the exact spot to where to kiss or where to bite. She knew her way around Chloe like no one else. To have that again wasn't really too much to ask for was it? No, there were plenty more fish in the sea, seven billion more in fact. Surely there was more than one person in the world that was right for her?

* * *

Her most recent catch was stunningly handsome, amazing in bed and conversations between them flowed effortlessly. In short, he was as close to perfection as Chloe thought she would ever find. Which is why she couldn't understand why she was still picturing Aubrey when she was with him, and she hated herself for it.

They had been together for four months (the longest relationship that Chloe had been in since Aubrey) and her thoughts of Aubrey hadn't diminished in the slightest, if anything, they'd increased. It was no longer just about their physical relationship (though when he kissed her, she still tasted Aubrey on her lips) but also the day-to-day things. She could imagine the look of frustration that would cross the beautiful woman's face if she were to see the damp towels he left strewn haphazardly around his apartment, could picture the eye roll that would result from his vast overuse of sugar in his morning coffee. At times she wondered if the imaginary Aubrey in her mind was a sign that she was losing the plot entirely.

She was also spending an increasing amount of time wondering about what the real Aubrey was doing. Was she still living with her parents? Her fierce independence suggested probably not. Had she found someone new? Surely after all this time she had. Did Aubrey ever think about her any more? Did she lie awake a night wondering where Chloe was and who she was with? Was she happy? Chloe was disgusted with herself for the times that she wished the answer was no. She still loved her, obviously she wanted her to be happy, but the thought that someone else, someone who wasn't Chloe, could be making her happy made her feel physically sick.

* * *

Chloe was almost at the point of giving up trying to find a flaw in him, maybe he really didn't have any. It wasn't until she was staring down at the little test, waiting for the presence or absence of a little blue line that could turn her world upside-down, that she found his fault in his ultimatum that followed:

"Either _it_ goes or I do."


	4. Nicholas

_She's got a baby inside_

_And holds her belly tight._

* * *

"Either _it_ goes or I do."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard what I said Chloe. I can't be a father."

Chloe couldn't believe what she was hearing. She picked up the pregnancy test and held it out towards him "You see this?" She pointed to the two unmistakable lines. "This means that you already are."

"No. I don't have to be- _we_ don't have to be. You could get rid of it."

"Are you serious?"

"I'm not going to be a father. It goes or I'm leaving."

"Fine." Chloe steeled herself and looked him dead in the eye. "Get out."

* * *

Chloe had always wanted children, lots of them, just not yet. She wasn't ready to be a mother. She had dreams and plans of things she wanted to see and do before then but despite that, there had been no question in her mind. Of all the decisions she'd made in her life, responding to his ultimatum had perhaps been the easiest. Maybe she didn't think that she was ready to be a mother yet but that didn't mean that it wasn't going to happen. There was no way she was getting 'rid of it', as he had so carelessly suggested.

She never once regretted telling him to leave, even if, at times, she found herself missing him. It wasn't really _him_ that she was missing though, rather, she missed just having _someone_. Sometimes, she wanted someone there to experience everything with her. Someone to share in the excitement of seeing her baby on the ultrasound for the first time. Someone to help her decide between the different colours to paint the nursery in the new, bigger home she'd moved to in advance of his or her arrival (a single bed apartment just wasn't going to cut it now). Someone to place their hand next to her own, on her rapidly growing belly, as she felt the first kicks. Other times, she felt she really just _needed_ someone. Someone to rub her back and relive the tension from the increasing weight she carried each day. Someone to hold her, to reassure her, relieving her fears. Someone to tell her that she _could_ do this.

She wanted _her_. She _needed_ her.

She knew that it was going to be hard, being a single mother. Sure, she'd have help - her parents were coming to stay with her after the birth to help out for a while but they'd have to go home at some point. She'd go back to being alone. But the thing was, she didn't _feel_ alone. At night, she slept with her arms wrapped protectively around her ever-expanding middle and she could feel the bond she shared with the little baby growing peacefully inside of her. Scared and uncertain as she was about the entire situation, the fact remained that she wanted to be a mother. It may have been happening sooner than she'd expected but with each day that she got closer to her due date, she got a bit more excited.

* * *

Nicholas Henry Beale - 7 lb 10 oz

* * *

When he opened his eyes for the very first time, they were the same piercing blue as his mother's. In fact, the only part of his appearance than resembled his father in any way, was his dirty blond hair (and then, when he was older, his tall, lean build). Everything else was unquestionably Chloe. Her parents (now grandparents for the first time) doted over him, as did anyone else who met him. He was a beautiful baby and grew into a charismatic boy who possessed every ounce of his mother's undeniable charm.

* * *

A few years down the line, Chloe got offered a new job. One with better pay and hours that meant she would be able to spend more time at home with Nicholas. The only problem was that it wasn't anywhere near being within a practical commuting distance so they'd had to move. Her energetic ten year old was excited about the whole thing and wanted to help with anything and everything he could. To keep him occupied, Chloe had tasked him with packing up all of his toys and books into boxes ready to be shipped to their new house.

A few days later, once everything had been moved, she let him help her unpack boxes and sort everything into the right rooms. She had been busy putting things away in the kitchen when she heard him calling for her. She walked into the living room and smiled at the sight of him rummaging diligently through various boxes.

"What's up Nick?"

"Mommy, there's a letter in here for you." She hadn't noticed it before but as she looked down at his hands she saw that he was not just holding _a_ letter but _the_ letter. The smile dropped from her face as she was stunned into silence. At a loss for words, she continued the gape at him as he reached into the small box in front of him again and pulled out a photo. "Who's this lady?"


	5. Tied Together With A Smile

_Seems the only one who doesn't see your beauty_

_Is the face in the mirror looking back at you._

* * *

Nicholas' mom was good-looking. This was a fact that he knew - he'd been told it all of his life. When he was younger, girls at school would tell him how lucky he was to have such a pretty mommy. As he got older and hormones started to take over the minds of his classmates, it was more often for the other _boys_ in class to make comments about her - though they usually weren't quite as polite (MILF was an acronym that he wished he didn't know the meaning of). Her good looks combined with her warm smile and the fact that she had a kind word to say about almost every person she met, meant that she was adored by all of his friends and their parents alike.

Nicholas had never met his father and was completely content with it that way; he had all the parent he needed in his mom. They were very close, she had always been determined to spend as much time as possible with him, despite having to work to support them both. They were a small family but they were a happy family.

* * *

It was the night that they'd moved into their new home that he first noticed it. The crying.

After his mom had tucked him in and kissed him goodnight, he'd found himself still too excited from the move to go to sleep. He pulled out a small torch and his copy of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire from under his bed and began reading the last few chapters. Nicholas loved reading and it was rare to find him without a book nearby. He loved the adventures that they took him on, loved being able to explore other worlds. There was nothing better, in his opinion, than being so absorbed in a story that you can see, hear and feel everything that the characters were experiencing.

As he started on the final chapter, he really felt like he could hear the sobbing of Amos Diggory as he met Harry. It took him a moment to realise that it wasn't just his imagination making him hear things, someone actually was crying. He put down the book and torch, climbed out of bed and tiptoed over to his bedroom door which was slightly ajar. Careful not to make any noise, he slipped out into the hallway and padded slowly along towards the top of the stairs, where light was spilling up from the living room below. The closer he got, the less muffled the crying (that he now recognised as his mom's) became.

He wondered if it was to do with the woman in the photo that he'd found earlier in the day. She'd told him that it was just an old friend, that the letter wasn't important and so she'd open it later but she had been acting funny ever since then. She'd seemed distracted, when he talked to her she smiled a fraction of a second late and he kept finding her staring into space, lost in thought. Maybe the letter had something sad in it that had upset her? Craning his neck to peer over the banister, he could make out his mother's figure hunched over on the floor, stacks of photographs and pieces of paper in front of her. Her shoulders shook with her sobs and she was clutching something to her chest.

He thought about going down to her but he had never seen his mom this upset before and didn't know what he could do about it, also, he knew that it was well past his bedtime and didn't want to get into trouble for still being awake. As he was debating what to do, her sobs lessened as she tried to get her tears under control. Taking in a deep breath, she pulled herself up straight and looked down at what was in her hands. Nicholas now recognised it as the letter that he had found but it wasn't opened, so why was she crying? She brought a shaky hand up to her face, roughly wiped away the tears from her cheeks and shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. Slowly, she placed the letter at the bottom of the small, empty box next to her, began gathering up the assortment of photos and piled them in on top of the letter. She gently brought the last photo up to briefly touch her lips before adding it to the box and closing the lid.

Nicholas continued to watch as she took a few more deep breaths, composing herself, and stood, picking up the box and carrying it over to open cupboard in the corner of the room. She slid it to the very back of the top shelf and closed the door, wiping away a few lingering tears as she turned and headed towards the stairs. Realising that she was coming his way, Nicholas scampered back to his room as fast as he could while making as little noise as possible. He switched off the torch and flung himself back into bed, facing the wall. As he heard his mother's footsteps coming along the hallway he shut his eyes and tried to slow his breathing as if he were asleep. He heard his door creak open a little further and a shaky sigh came from his mom before she stepped back out into the hallway and the door closed with a quiet click.

After she'd left the room, Nicholas rolled back over, eyes wide. He put his book away but still he didn't sleep. He couldn't sleep. Instead, he lay in bed, thoughts and questions churning around in his mind. Who _was_ that woman? What was in the letter? Why hadn't his mom opened it? And how could it be upsetting her so much when she hadn't even read it? Most importantly, how could he make his mom happy again? She had taught him that when someone was sad you should do whatever you can to make them feel better. But what _could_ he do?

* * *

The following morning she woke him with a bright smile and the promise of pancakes for breakfast. Despite having spent much of the night pondering the question, he still didn't know what had upset her. He was just glad that she seemed happy again.

The more he thought about it though, the more he came to doubt if she really _was_ happy. He made a point of paying more attention to her mood and soon discovered that the previous night's tears weren't such a rare occurrence. He wasn't sure if it hadn't been happening before or if he'd just never noticed it. Either way, now that he had started noticing it, he couldn't seem to stop. She never cried in front of him (he was pretty sure that she didn't have any idea that he knew she cried at all) but he heard her. It was mostly at night, after he'd been sent to bed and she was left alone. Occasionally though, walking into a room he caught a glimpse of her deep in thought with a forlorn expression before she noticed his presence and adjusted her features back into that dazzling smile.

While he didn't feel the need to meet his dad, he did want his mom to be happy. Sometimes he wondered if she would be happier if his dad was still around, most of his friends at school lived with their moms and dads together and they all seemed happy. He had a few friends who lived with step-parents though, maybe that's what she needed - not his dad back but someone else to join their little family. Someone else to love her. It's not like she didn't go out on dates, they just never seemed to stick around for very long, even the very occasional ones that he got to meet. They all just seemed to end up leaving and it went back to being just the two of them again.

* * *

Over time, he came to doubt the title of 'just an old friend' that had been given to the blonde woman in the photo. He'd always wanted to bring it up in conversation. The letter, that woman. He just didn't know how to, or how his mom would react if he did. The last thing he wanted was to bring it up and cause her more upset. He wrestled with different ways of subtly phrasing vague questions to get some sort of insight into the mystery woman but with little success. That is, until one day the need for such subtleties became irrelevant.

* * *

It was during one of their weekly food shops that it happened, down an aisle between the candy and boxes of cereal. Nicholas was half listening to his mom as she discussed the differing health benefits of various breakfast foods whilst he checked off items from their list. He had his back to her, picking up a box of Lucky Charms, when her monologue (that had moved onto an organic vs. non-organic debate) came to an abrupt halt.

He spun around to find out what had managed to silence her. She stood stock-still, no trace of a smile on her face. Her mouth hung open and her eyes wide, staring.

A short distance along the aisle stood a woman who wore a similarly shocked expression to his mother's. They had never met before but Nicholas recognised her instantly. After a few long moments, in which neither woman seemed even to blink, a very small, nervous looking smile made its way onto the blonde's face.


End file.
